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Sif's Son                 Poetic form: Ljóđaháttr (Song Meter)

Wolf-pawed I prowl. Past prince of Asgard,
Regaled with rings and wreathed in furs
Oath witness I. Wild words in winter
By Gunn's mount garnered like gold.

To Vor are vows made; Sweet vines she tends.
To Thor thoughts flow when duty calls.
Fair Frey follows: Frith 'twixt friends forged,
Wolf's portion is promises made in pain.

Death-deals drawn, Dire times demand them.
Harken to the howling at Hall's door!
Silence my gift; Survival your debt,
In the Wolf Age met at winter's edge.

© Robin Herne

Robin Herne on FaceBook   *   Ipswich Pagan Council   *   Round the Herne.blogspot.com


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